


Derek's Twelve Days of Christmas

by IcyCryos



Series: Cheating Derek Series [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Derek Hale, Cheating Derek Hale, Christmas Smut, Cock Cages, M/M, Nipple Piercings, Public Blow Jobs, Sub Derek Hale, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-24 07:33:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17096486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyCryos/pseuds/IcyCryos
Summary: It's almost Christmas and Derek is in for a fun-filled twelve days.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Benn_Xavier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Benn_Xavier/gifts).



> Please note that this is part of the Cheating Derek series. Meaning that Derek is involved in shenanigans behind Stiles's back. If this offends you, please do not read further. If you do proceed, then it is in full knowledge of what is about to happen. 
> 
> Otherwise Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> This is a birthday present for Benn! I hope he enjoys it as much as I did writing it. As for the other 11 days...I am hopeful to finish them around Christmas time. There are already a couple chapters completed. Wish me luck =D

On the First Day of Christmas…

 

There were times that Derek regretted giving everyone at the station a key to his loft. In the last months, the deputies had pretty much started using it as a home away from home; they ate his food, lounged around, ordered him about.  But most usually they came to enjoy the pleasures their station slut’s body offered.

 

As a result, more often than not, lately Derek found himself starting off his day waking up to a rough morning fuck from one of the guys who’d stayed overnight, or, someone dropping in for something fast and furious on his way to an early shift at the station. Either way, they’d make him their bitch and then he’d make them their breakfast, still-warm cum oozing from his ravaged hole.  

 

Not that Derek minded this; in fact he loved giving over control to Beacon Hills’ finest and, truth be told, an early morning ‘bitching’ blunted his man cunt’s ‘cravings’ for at least the next few hours. Which made going about his day a little easier.

 

Now, Derek wasn’t as generous with everyone about accessing his den (or his ass). And was a good thing that he hadn’t quite gotten around to giving his boyfriend Stiles his own set of keys yet. Not that Stiles made a habit of stopping by without calling first, usually. The kid had learned fast on that one.

 

But there were still a number of close calls when Stiles being able to just walk in would have been disastrous. More often than he wanted to admit, Derek had found himself making an impromptu gag of a dildo or a pulsing cock to prevent an inadvertent sound from escaping,  giving away what was really happening behind his locked front door as he pretended he wasn’t home, while Stiles stood on the other side of it on a random drop by.

 

Yes, Derek’s dance card was normally pretty full, but today he languidly and surprisingly woke alone.  A stray sunbeam hit his eyes at just the right angle from one of the floor-to-ceiling windows across his bed as he untangled himself from the sheets pooled around his legs. Before he was even free of his cotton bonds, his hand wandered down his bare belly, finally settling on his cock to fist his half-erection.  

 

It would have likely been full mast had he not drained his balls dry mere hours earlier.

 

Derek shoved his cum crusted sheets away and the cool air of the loft pimpled his bare skin. For most of his life he’d slept in boxers but lately, as a pure convenience factor, he’d learned simply being naked (not just sleeping naked) in the loft was easier.  His deputy studs preferred him ready for anything and both they, and sometimes he, himself, had ruined quite a few articles of his clothing in their haste to strip him down to a fuckable state.

 

Unaware he was doing it, Derek’a nostrils flared as he silently scented the room, able to access the whole of his territory from his current position.

 

When the deputies had first started coming around, his heightened senses alerted him to his studs’ arrival long before the men actually got to his door.  But as their visits became more frequent, he’d quickly learned to distinguish their footsteps, as well as the individual aroma of each man. Soon, the sheriff’s crew had been in his loft enough he associated these with the comforts of his ‘den’.  And it wasn’t long before their steps and scents no longer roused a sense of impending danger but instead Derek’s dick.

 

But this morning there were no footsteps. No fresh scent.

 

Derek was disappointed. Especially since they all had keys and it was getting so close to the pending holiday. He’d never say it, but he’d sort of been expecting the deputies’ activity level to jump. It was the season for giving, after all. And man, did they seem to like giving it to him.

 

They were a ”generous” group and liked surprising Derek so much that he’d had to significantly change his routine to be more accommodating; sleeping naked, tubes of lube and packs of wet wipes every five feet (but hidden so that Stiles wouldn't easily find them), buying sturdier furniture. He even kept his fridge stocked now with essentials such as beer, Red Bull for those overnight marathons, pounds of meats and cheeses to rebuild lost protein stores, and a particular favorite of Jesse’s - fudgesicles. These Jesse enjoyed immensely and not just through the act of eating.

 

Frowning about his circumstances (empty loft, empty ass) Derek spent several minutes working to tamp down his feelings. Staring at the exposed beams above, he jacked his cock slowly as he mentally prepared himself for his day. This included a brief consideration of the possibility it might be an unfortunate amount of hours before he got his first dose of dick.  

 

The thought left his cock lazy, his ass twitching, his mind melancholic. Derek pulled a deep breath preparing to sigh. In the process his nose caught something. It was faint, but his now eagerly hardening dick spurted some precome nonetheless, conditioned to associate pleasure with deputy scent.  Sniffing heavily now, the smell indicated that someone had been inside his loft recently, within the last two hours at least, but their signature had grown too weak for him to determine whom.

 

Abandoning jacking his dick in pursuit of the smell, groggily he swung his body about. After extricating himself from his bed, he made his way down the spiral staircase into the kitchen where the scent was still indistinct but heavier. In his dazed, fuck deprived state, Derek poured himself a glass of water before he managed to notice a neatly wrapped present innocently laying on his kitchen counter.  

 

‘ _Must be from earlier this morning.’_ Kyle hadn’t brought anything with him when he’d come to fuck him last night.  ‘ _Well other than his cum.’_

 

Derek reached back to finger his hole. It took some effort to get the digit past his ever-tight sphincter, but he was rewarded for his persistence feeling the residue Kyle had left there.

 

Without even looking at it first, as soon as he pulled it out, he popped the finger that had just been in his filthy hole into his mouth and cleaned it before picking up the present. Lifting it up he noticed it had been lying on top of an envelope.  He swapped the box with the envelope, wanting to know more before ripping open the wrapping paper.

 

Inside the envelope was a note written on a surprisingly fine-weighted paper. Derek’s eyes widened as they took in its contents.

 

_“Bitch,_

 

_Hope you and Kyle had a great time last night, because starting today and for the next 10 days, that’s the only dick you’re going to get in your pussy.  Believe us, this is going to be as hard for us as it is for you but it’s going to be worth it in the end.”_

 

Derek’s asshole puckered at the threatened ban on fucking but his curiosity was piqued.  Since this whole mess started he had grown accustomed to taking it up the ass at least once a day.  He loved waking up to a cock in his ass; going to sleep suckling on a dick; and every fuck in between.  But if the letter was true, he would have to forego all of that for the hopefully worthwhile something at the end.

 

He kept reading.

 

_“For today, open the box and put on what’s inside.  We expect to see you in it when you come by the station later.  Bring the box and everything else in it when you come._

 

_Until then though, every fifteen minutes, take a picture and send it to one of us.  You know what kind of picture we want._

 

_You have until 10:00 am to get to the station.”_

 

With a resigned huff, knowing that what he wanted didn’t matter, Derek brought the box to his ear and gently shook it, wanting to guess what was inside.  He chuckled when he noticed that the deputies had thoughtfully wrapped it in miniature dog bones for their bitch, but other than the scent of several intimately known hands, the only clue he got was the faint clink of metal.

 

He popped a claw, and carefully opened the top, remembering that he had to bring it and everything inside to the station.  Derek raised an eyebrow when he reached in the box and brought out a small metal cage, complete with lock and key.

 

His mind sparked with a flashback, immediately thinking back to the time Kate had captured him and held him at her father’s basement.  For an instant Derek felt cold metal digging into his wrists, smelled the sharp scent of ozone before the electricity carried through the mesh and into his body.  

 

But just as quickly as it popped in his head, thankfully, the memory was replaced by the familiar scent of his studs wafting richly from the opened box.  Derek shook his head to fully clear his mind and refocus on the ‘gift’ in front of him. It took him, and his dick, a minute to realize just what he was holding. His waning erection immediately revived and his cock spat out a heady spurt of precome.  

 

_‘I’m going to need to take care of that.”_ Derek’s eyes dropped to his ever eager cock. He wiped the clear fluid dangling from its tip with a thumb and popped this into his mouth, suckling thoughtfully. _Especially if I have to put this on.’_

 

Derek rolled the cock cage around in his hand. Inspecting it, he tried to wrap his head around just what he had to do.  It was pretty well designed, a spiral of metal rings approximately two inches in diameter. These rings all extended from a heavier base ring that hinged open. They were clamped together by a small lock that also served to close the hinged ring.  Derek rolled the rings between his fingers. They felt terrifyingly solid.

 

His bushy brows dipped as he identified that also attached to the base ring was a short curved rod connected to a small, squat, metal flower. His frown deepened when he realized, overall, the rings extended only about 3 inches out. Capped by a dome that added another inch to the total length, quick mental comparisons told Derek this contraption would be a snug fit.  

 

_‘Well, a snug fit once my dick finally goes down.’_

 

He put the cage back on the kitchen counter and grabbed one of the bottle of lube he’d strategically taped to the bottom of the nearest barstool. Because there was no way he was dry-dicking it if this was going to be his last wank for days.

 

A quick squirt into the palm of his right hand and Derek started pumping at his cock. Without a real scenario to spur him on, his mind returned to last night when he’d been handcuffed to the bed.

 

_Kyle had found a can of whipped cream and maraschino cherries Stiles had left behind.  Once Derek was secured he disappeared for a couple minutes, only to return grinning and brandishing his spoils. Instead of the lube Derek had asked him to get from the kitchen, Kyle then proceeded to feed the cherries and whipped cream to him._

 

_But rather than hand-feeding, Kyle had put the nozzle up his own ass and, along with the de-stemmed cherries, shat this into Derek’s open mouth._

 

Eyes closed, reliving the memory, Derek licked his lips all but tasting the mix of sweet and bitter flavors. The hand twisting furiously over the head of his cock dripped with more than lube now.

 

_It had certainly been a new experience for him.  After his tongue had found the last cherry and he’d sucked the last melted smear of cream from Kyle’s ass, the deputy had  lubed up his dick and Derek’s hole with the remaining whipped cream and spent the rest of the night long-dicking his tied up bitch._

 

In the present, with his right hand masturbating and left hand having wandered to finger the rim of his still sweet-sticky, cum-filled ass, Derek rapidly approached climax recalling his ravishing.

 

_Legs thrown over Kyle’s shoulders. His body bent in two as Kyle powerfucked him for the better part of an hour.  Cock sandwiched between his hard body and Kyle’s pudgy stomach, sticky from precome and whipped cream._

 

He came to the memory of Kyle breeding him for the third, and final time; ropes of white shooting all over his countertop.

 

Stomach still quivering, Derek slouched over, his lube-slicked hand messily splayed on the granite. Once he regained his breath, he drew a deep one and read the instructions.  His dry hand reached out towards the cock cage, a finger tracing the polished metal rings. He waited another few minutes before glancing down at his cock.

 

‘ _It should fit now.’_ He thought wryly.

 

Wiping his hand on his abs so he could pick up the tiny key, Derek unlocked the rings from the base.  He took the flowered end and turned it closed. Now it resembled a pod.

 

_‘Or a butt plug.’_

 

After reading, and rereading the accompanying manufacturer’s instructions, Derek reached behind him, hitched up a leg, and tried to push the metal pod into his ass.  However, the tightness of his hole made the effort futile. Eying the streaks of his own cum on the counter, he wiped a finger to gather this and slathered it inside and around his ass.  With more effort, once lubed and relaxing his ass out, Derek managed to shove the plug in. Thankfully with the rod and hinged ring facing the right direction on the first try.

 

Plug in place, he now maneuvered the open ring towards the base of his cock. Simultaneously placing it around and underneath his balls, he pushed the pod further up into his ass until the slightly wider ‘stem’ of it was completely flush against his hole.  Once he moved his hand and his his finger was no longer providing pressure, the pod unfurled. Derek shivered at the flow of cool air inside him when the plug-flower-speculum finally slotted in place and gaped his ass open.

 

Meanwhile, the heavy ring laid at the base of his taint, underneath his balls and Derek slowly closed the it, careful not to pinch skin.  Once in place, he took the other half of the contraption and gingerly placed his softened dick through the spiral rings until the glans was tucked inside the domed end.

 

_‘So far so good, I guess.’_

 

When he brought the two ends together to lock them in place, Derek was pleased to find that while the cage was a snug fit, his dick was still somewhat plump from his earlier masturbation, encouraged too by the feeling of finally getting something into his greedy hole.  Completely soft, his dick would be moderately comfortable in its new home, but there wasn’t much wiggle room remaining.

 

Another deep breath, heart racing, Derek  pressed and the lock clicked into place. It rested gently on top of the cage, providing easy access with the key.  ‘ _Not that I’ll have the key.’_ he assumed; remembering the directions to bring the box and whatever was left with him to the station.  He dropped the key in the box with no small trepidation and stepped away, but not without remembering the second part of his instructions.

 

As he walked towards the spiral staircase to the upper part of the loft, the metal felt strange, cool against his cock, groin, and ass.  The curved rod connecting his cock cage with his anal gaping plug nestled snugly against his taint and up between his lower ass cheeks. Walking caused the speculum to move slightly, but it was hardly noticeable.  Still, it was an uncomfortable feeling the heavier metal at the base pushing out his balls and the constant breeze inside his ass. Disconcerting, but not painful.

 

The further Derek moved, the more he realized how mentally comforting the weight of the rings encircling his cock felt.  The climb up his stairs was slightly more difficult however, mainly due to the gape of his ass. His normal exercise routine would have to be adjusted to accordingly.  

 

Upon reaching the upper loft, he grabbed the cell phone Stiles had forced him to get, and went before his mirror.  He took a selfie, making sure to get a full body shot of his naked front, cock trapped in its metal cage. Once he knew he’d gotten a good shot, he went to his tousled bed and settled down onto his back.  This shot would be more tricky, but he was confident in his abilities.

 

Derek lifted his knees to his chest, keeping his ass pointed towards the mirror.  Focusing on the phone on the reflection, he zoomed in on his bitch hole and its pink insides, shown by the wedged speculum.  Knowing just what the deputies wanted, he popped his head up and grinned before taking the shot.

 

Selecting all the deputies and John’s numbers, Derek typed a small message and hit send.

 

‘ _Fits perfectly.  Can’t wait to show you all in person._ ’

 


	2. On the Second Day of Christmas

After all the losses the department incurred from supernatural shit, despite all his advertisements only male applicants had responded to his calls for crew. So what else could the Sheriff do? He didn't set out to do so, but John had ended up hiring an all male crew.

Of course this worked out great for Derek, especially considering all of John's present deputies were kinky fucks. (They were such great perverts if was almost as if the sheriff had added added a special box on the BHPD application to be checked for deviance.)

The guys being such a randy group of cocks and Derek such a shameless slut/ pervert magnet, his visits of course caused great departmental distraction. But John didn’t try to keep Derek from stopping by. Distraction or no, the Sheriff couldn't ignore that properly incentivized (read: bribed with Derek's cock holes) his men performed better at all other times. 

Out of his car and approaching the station, dressed in his present under his pants, Derek excitement mounted. The moment he entered the Beacon Hills police station, he made a beeline for Deputy Dooley’s desk first.

It had become a tradition when he visited the station to go up and give Officer Walter Dooley a fat, wet kiss to signal everyone if he was up for some fun. When he came alone, Derek's first stop was always Officer Dooley's mouth.

Then he’d try and go lower: Dooley was one of the few that played hard to get with him. That was part of the fun of using the guy as the indicator he was ready for some instigation. Well, that and because for such an old,  fat fuck Dooley had a pretty amazing cock.

It was a great warm up trying to access that rod on a normal day. But when he came with Stiles, cornering Dooley for a suck session was a dick-charging challenge.  
  
This morning, however, Derek found the balding, fat man not parked behind his desk but by the drip coffee machine.

‘Birds of a feather…’ Derek thought, considering it a gathering of drips, Is there a special term for that? A “collection” of drips, maybe?’

He’d have to ask Stiles about this later because if he didn’t know… Well, Stiles would research.

The predator in him thrilled realizing Dooley was completely unaware of his approach, too busy contemplating which donut to eat. The powder on his shirt and the sparse pickings in the pink cardboard box indicated he'd had more than his fair share for the morning already.

Graced with the perception of a sonar-deprived bat, Dooley startled when Derek took the short officer’s fat jowls in his both his hands and bent down to kiss him.  
  
Tongue tracing the faint taste of sugar, Derek probed the pursed lips until they parted. Immediately he delved in, licking, eager to find every lingering pocket of powdered sugar hidden inside Dooley’s mouth.

Derek growled with sugar buzzed contentment when Dooley recovered enough from the surprise kiss attack for his hands to cup his ass and give it a good squeeze. Enjoying the pressure, Derek ground his dick against the swell of soft gut seeking friction on both fronts.

Or front and back, however one wanted to consider it.  
  
Then cold kiss of metal on his hot flesh reminded Derek why he was at the station in the first place today. He realized if he pressed further, like he usually would, things would rapidly turn from pleasure to pain for him. So, reluctantly, he pushed himself away after one last swipe of his tongue with Dooley's.  
  
With Dooley’s mouth attended, Derek's traditional next step in his well-rehearsed invitation involved dropping to his knees (really sitting, given how short Dooley was compared to his own frame) and kissing the deputy’s dick through his pants before fishing it out and taking just the glans into his mouth.  

However, because of today's situation, Derek instead stepped away and started taking his clothes off, eager to show what a good slut he’d been.  
  
The way the station was situated, the deputy desks and common area was separated from the front receiving desk. Which, combined with Derek's heightened senses, allowed the men free reign with their “activities”. So it was not a rare occurrence for him to end up naked, giving a blowjob, or getting fucked out in the commons.  

Looking around Derek was pleased to note that with his appearance, like usual all work had stopped. He fucking loved having this effect of his studs, the smell of their lust and the look of anticipation heavy in the men's stares. Bolstered by his captive audience, he popped a claw and, starting from the hem of his black shirt, ripped it clean down the middle; each inch a slow progress.

When the last thread was shorn, Derek let the shredded front gape, flashing a tantalizing glimpse of smooth, sculpted muscle.

He flicked his stare from Deputy Van Ingen’s hungry gaze to the man’s obscenely tented khakis before shrugging. The destroyed BHHS Lacrosse shirt fluttered to the floor and Derek hooked his fingers through belt loops and cocked Van Ingen a grin.

His inner exhibitionist revving up, he then popped all ten claws. This time, and with a flash of his fangs, shredded the waist of his pants. But rather than fall unceremoniously to the ground, the tightness of Derek’s whore pants and the fatness of his ass kept them up. It was only after another rip from his claws down the outside of the upper thighs that they peeled away.

Of course he wasn’t wearing anything underneath but his gift.

Shredded pants and shirt pooled around his feet, Derek took the frisk pose. His arms stretched overhead and clasped behind his head. Waxed smooth legs spread shoulder length apart, back straight and chest puffed forward, Derek’s body presented a perfected vision in lewdness.  

The gleaming metal cage nestled between marble-hewn thighs the only thing marring his sculptured nudity. But rather than detracting, the juxtaposition of winking silver obscuring such a glorious revelation of flesh only enhanced.

The officers made no sound at his display but the smell of lust hung heavy in the air, pungent. Derek decided to go one step further; he stepped up on top of the breakroom table, next to the opened box of powdered donuts, and presented his ass to the room.  Reaching his hands back to spread his muscled cheeks revealing his hole, gaped open by the speculum. He stayed there, in silent offering; another treat to be enjoyed at their leisure.

The Sheriff stepped out of his office and came towards the break table, empty mug in hand.  

“Looking good, Hale.”

The sound of his chief stud’s voice sent a shiver up Derek’s spine and made his balls hitch.

Even with eyes closed, he felt the lawman’s presence deep inside as the sheriff approached.  He waited anxiously for the rough, gun-calloused hand to settle between his shoulder blades, a silent bid for him to rise and be recognized.  

He anticipated John’s growled approval, the warmth in his voice. The reward he’d get from the sheriff for his bitch wearing their gift so proudly.

But long moments passed and there was no touch. Derek knelt at the table staying in position continuing to wait. At the clink of glass, the flow of coffee, and the crinkle of paper as a donut was taken from the box next to him a sense of desperate jealous mounted in him at all the things the Sheriff was touching that were not him. 

Still, despite this he waited. Something dropped heavy in his gut when he was rewarded for his patience by the sound of the Sheriff’s footsteps walking away from the table without another word and the closing of his office door.

The Sheriff’s dismissal of his station slut seemed catalytic, the deputies snapping out of their trance and proceeding to go on about their work.  Derek didn’t know how long he remained there, crouched and displaying himself. The shame of going unrecognized made his cheeks heat. It caused his humiliation-loving cock to also grow hot, unfortunately.  

Before long, unbidden whines escaped his throat.  At first small and quiet, barely audible through the din of the office, but as they, and him, continued to be ignored, they progressed to louder calls for attention.  It was minutes, or maybe it was hours, before the Sheriff’s voice once again bellowed from his office.

“God fucking damn it, Hale!  O’Toole, shut him up. His yapping is getting on my nerves.”

“Yes sir!”

Derek quivered with anticipation.  

Finally.  

Green eyes watched as the older deputy scooted from his desk and approached Derek’s prostrated body.  The anticipation of attention caused his gaped ass to tingle, aching for that sweet relief.

“Off the table, slut.”

With werewolf speed, Derek scrambled off his perch and stood in front of O’Toole before the man had even finished his command.  He was greeted with an arched unibrow as in his eagerness, Derek had forgotten how he was to properly greet each deputy while at the station.  

Dropping to his knees, Derek crawled forward and placed his head against O’Toole’s covered dick and nosed at the bulge he found.  He held his place until a hand reached down and levered his head upwards to look at the man above him.

“Good boy.”  The praise only added more fuel to Derek’s already racing heart.  He nuzzled further into the hardening flesh for long seconds before the man stepped back prompting Derek to open his eyes.  Hazel eyes watched as O’Toole headed back towards his desk and sat down.

Once sitting, the deputy looked over the at the were kneeling halfway across the room and snapped his finger, pointing to the space under his desk.  Without thinking, Derek dropped to his hands and knees and crawled towards the deputy’s desk. In a slow gait, trying to catch any eyes that strayed from their work, Derek preened at the command, eager to sate even a portion of the hunger that had been building inside since waking.  

Upon reaching the desk, O’Toole made room for him to scuttle underneath.  Derek nestled himself between spread legs as the deputy tucked his chair in, effectively shutting off the were from the rest of the office.  With only the light seeping beneath the desk and from around O’Toole’s ham-like legs, Derek crouched between the cage of dark wooden walls and fleshy legs.  

Far from stifling, the warmth of the man in front of him settled his wolf.  The scent of dominance, at least dominance over him, brought Derek a euphoric calm as he laid his head on the man’s lap.  The gentle sounds of the office and the smell of the men engulfed him fully. He didn’t know how long he sat there in his position, maybe minutes - maybe hours, before a clammy hand reached down from brought his head up from the lap.  Wedging between, the fingers clumsily worked the pants’ zipper and reached inside to fish out a limp, moist dick.

Barely larger than the pudgy fingers now prodding at Derek’s mouth, the flaccid cock smelled strongly of sweat and funk.  Immediately Derek’s mouth started salivating as his tongue swirled around the middle finger currently shoved inside. Another hand gripped his hair and brought his face in.  Without further prompting, Derek closed the remaining few inches between and filled his mouth with the salty sweat of O’Toole’s musk.

Derek shuddered at the pleasure of being full, at least mentally being full, and he sighed in relief.  However, before he could pull back to start a proper blowjob, the same hand in his hair held him still with the other one cupping the back of his head.  The thickening cock still nestled firmly within Derek’s heat twitched and Derek felt the flow of urine on the back of his tongue before the smell hit his nose.  

O’Toole must have been holding it in because as fast as Derek could swallow, piss kept filling his mouth.  The flow and force didn’t allow him the usual time to savor the deputy’s individual flavor; O’Toole’s usually being slightly sour.  It was all Derek could do to not spill any overflow from his lips; but he was well-trained and well-practiced and only the barest stream slipped from the corner of his mouth.  

As the urine slowed, Derek was finally able to collect a mouthful and really enjoy the taste.  The sourness of O’Toole’s waste surrounded his taste buds and coated his tongue. Swallowing, his throat was hyper-aware of the heavy weight of liquid and the slight burning sensation as it made its way down to his stomach.  It had taken months before any of the deputies indulged in this one of his more hidden pleasures. But now, these days, his holes were used as much as a urinal as they were a cum dump.

Gripping hands released his head as O’Toole finished emptying his bladder.  They went back to clicking away at the computer, probably filling out a slew of boring police reports.  Derek, meanwhile, didn’t want to relinquish the cock now lying limply in his mouth. Instead, he nosed deeper into the thatch of wiry hairs until they tickled his nose and all he could smell was the distinct odor of pepper and anise; O’Toole’s personal scent.  

Peeking up from underneath the lip of the desk past the bulge of O’Toole’s gut, Derek spent the next minutes trying to catch his gaze; trying to ask for permission to start pleasuring the deputy above him as well as scratching his own itch.

Trying to entice the older man, he suckled and lathed his tongue around the choad but the deputy paid him no heed. Needy with want, Derek employed another tried and true tactic; whining and begging like a dog in heat.  When that didn’t do the job, he snaked his tongue out of his mouth, underneath O’Toole’s cockshaft, and lapped at the man’s balls. Occasionally his tongue would scrape against the pants’ zipper but the scratchy pain was worth it as shortly after Derek felt his mouth grow fuller and he smirked around his cockful lips.

Having well earned it, he took his time with his prize now.  The clicking of the keys overhead stopped and Derek once again felt hands on his head, fingers burrowing into his thick pelt.  His sharp ears making out the shallowing of breaths and a racing heart. He could easily imagine O’Toole’s face as the man gave in to whorish hole beneath him; beady brown eyes fluttering upwards, rheumy gaze unfocused, jowled mouth agape to draw in lost breaths.  The entire office would know what was happening under his desk. And if more deputies were swayed by what O’Toole was experiencing, Derek would not say no.

He worked, as always, to be sure that he gave O’Toole an experience to cherish: Derek had a special place in his heart for O’Toole after all, he was the deputy’s first. As his first, and as far as Derek could tell his only fuck, he was particularly intimate with the deputy’s triggers.  That a gentle nibbling on his nipples or a rough swipe of tongue along the underside of his man-breasts could illicit the most awesome responses. But those erogenous zones were out of this were’s reach; he had to settle with the ones below the belt.

Popping off the man’s cock, Derek rubbed his stubbled cheek against the shaft.  With his lips kissing the base, he knew how much O’Toole loved the sandpaper feel of beard against his sensitive skin.  The glans, leaking a thin stream of sticky precum, beaded into Derek’s earlobe, smearing the pleasant smell of salt and ammonia all over his face.  

He moved his chin upwards, resting his cleft on the spit-slicked cock and used his tongue to play with the deputy’s treasure trail.  Derek took a biteful of pubic hair and gently tugged several times before bathing it in his saliva only to take another mouthful and repeat the process, a few loose strands caught between his teeth or wiped off by his tongue.  

Reveling in finally being to indulge, Derek ravenously went to town.  Several times he took the entirety of O’Toole’s dick and balls into the moist cavern his mouth, stretching its wideness to the limit, and just growled.  The vibrations eliciting a humorous squeak from above him. Derek showered the underside of O’Toole’s shaft with Eskimo kisses and traced the tip of his tongue along the protruding veins.  

By the time he got to literally just sucking on the head of O’Toole’s penis, enjoying the steady stream of salty nectar he received for his effort, the fingers grasping his hair had changed their grip to forceful.  After this, it wasn’t long before the first spurt of cum splashed across his tongue.

Derek held still, lips pursed around the convulsing dickhead and he fought back the urge to swallow.  He waited until the cock stopped twitching and pulled off. Not wanting to waste the last drop forming on the piss-slip, he gave the head one last Eskimo kiss, smearing the drop of cum on the tip of his nose.  The sounds of the office immediately around O’Toole’s desk went still and Derek knew, without having to look, that those eyes were watching the deputy orgasm into the waiting mouth of their office slut.

He craned his head as far forward as possible and caught the drab brown eyes with his own startling green.  With the man’s attention, Derek opened his mouth and showed him the pool of white deposited within. Keeping eye contact, he swallowed making sure to accentuate the bob of his Adam’s apple and once more opened his mouth to display his now empty orifice.  

The two men’s eye contact never wavered, even as O’Toole took heaving breaths for his body to catch up with his recent activities.  But the moment was broken when a voice to their left sliced through.

“Bitch.  I need to piss.  Get over here.”

 

_____________________________________________________________________________________

 

Bleary eyes opened not to O’Toole’s burgeoning gut pushing away to let him out from under the desk to his next stud but to the faint motes of dust floating in the air, suspended in beams of morning light.  Derek groaned and closed his eyes, willing himself to finish his dream. His mind brought forth visions of last afternoon’s office shenanigans. Of how he spend hours crawling on his hands and feet between desks; swallowing loads of cum and, for the adventurous deputy, liters of piss.  

As he lay on his bed, sheets rumpled around his legs he thought of how he finally crawled into the Sheriff’s office and under his oak desk.  Of how he spent long minutes worshiping the cock of his boyfriend’s dad as the man completed his paperwork.

He revisited the thrill of Stiles walking into his father’s office while he nursed the Sheriff’s cock, suckling the last drop of urine from his cockhead.  How he half-heard the babbling conversation between father and son about Christmas gifts and Christmas plans; too focused on getting the dick in his mouth hard for the second time in the last thirty minutes.  

'Fuck'. Or lack thereof, he thought. The metal of the rings encasing his cock pressed cold and unyielding against his already aching flesh. Dreams of yesterday's fun after his arrival at the station turned into this morning's nightmare as his cock strained within its prison.  

Derek jumped up, not wanting to linger like he had yesterday morning, and walked towards his bathroom.  

“It’s going to be a lot of cold showers for a while.”

 

XXXMAS-XXXMAS-XXXMAS-XXXMAS-XXXMAS

 

“Well Scott said he’d be at his internship all this break so I guess it’s just you and me and the bed this Christmas…”

Derek rolled his eyes as he listened.  Even through the phone he could mentally see Stiles waggling his eyebrows when he said this.  

He had just stepped out of the shower when he picked up the phone from its perch at the sink streaming his shower to the hidden department website.  Though fairly new, something the tech department at the station put together just last month, it had a fair amount of pictures and videos already uploaded.  

The phone had actually been ringing while he was still in the shower trying to figure out how to best clean his cock and cage.  But having assigned Stiles a unique ringtone ages ago, he knew it wasn’t one of the deputies so he hadn’t picked up right away. He’d caught Stiles on the last ring, however, and was now caught listening to one of his boyfriend’s rambles.

“...And my pops.  Hanging out with him is kinda mandatory, you know.”  

Yeah, Derek definitely knew.  And it wasn’t as much of a burden to him as Stiles thought…

“So anyway, I can’t do anything yet until I finish this project Harris pooped on me literally the last second.  Gotta spend most of my time after school doing that. Oh and practice since Finstock seems to think NOW of all nows is the best time to get the team in shape for the season.  THE SEASON’S ALREADY OVER.”

As Stiles continued to rail against Finstock’s lacrosse zealotry, Derek sauntered to the kitchen, refreshed and properly cooled down, towel slung across his broad shoulders and dripping all over the polished cement floor from the cockcage.  He had no idea how to properly dry that off. He figured he might as well let it air dry, like walking around naked in his own loft was a chore.

Stiles’s voice faded to the background as his eyes focused on the new wrapped present waiting for him on his kitchen counter.  Putting his phone down, he made a beeline for the box and lifted it up. Like a kid at Christmas, he brought it to his ear and shook: a slight clinking sound was heard.  Derek hefted it in one hand, testing its weight, but could find no objective information as to what was wrapped within.

It was only after making a fool of himself with the box did Derek notice the envelope lying innocently alongside.  Scrawled in black ink was John’s handwriting:

_Go to Pricks and give this sealed envelope to the someone there.  More instructions are inside. Don’t open either the box or the envelope by yourself._

Resigning himself to curiosity, he trusted that whatever lay inside was for his enjoyment.  Derek picked up his discarded phone and listened to his still-rambling boyfriend on the other side who had now switched from sports to shopping.  

“... Anyway, I need to get going.  I finally have some time and this is the only time Lydia is available to go with me to the outlets.  You should be grateful that you’re worth me _willingly_ going to any shopping establishment with her.  I’ll see you tonight for dinner with the parental unit.”

Before Derek could answer in the affirmative, Stiles had hung up and he was left listening to the beeping dial tone.  Signing, he walked back upstairs to his room to put on some clothes. He had a store to find.

 

XXXMAS-XXXMAS-XXXMAS-XXXMAS-XXXMAS

  
Derek wrinkled his nose as he approached the given address. Several towns, and two hours, further up the interstate than Beacon Hills, Greenfield was nothing that its name promised. Overgrown farm lots gave way to abandoned storefronts and the occasional lonely business the further Derek drove into town. The scent of the old and  the broken and the untouched assailed his nose.  
  
As he pulled into his street, the boarded up Mom and Pops stores made way to factories and warehouses, not unlike the kind he had skulked around years ago. But there was more business here, or rather more people, as evident by the bars and lounging riffraff around them. Hardened eyes followed Derek's black Camaro as an unknown intruder into their territory.  
  
Waze cheerfully announced that he had finally reached his destination, a storefront nestled between a pawnshop and a closed barbershop. Across the street was an empty lot, which served as parking for the spattering of businesses. Derek found himself pulling up between a dilapidated Toyota Corolla full of dents and rusted spots where the original gold paint had worn off and a well maintained motorcycle.  
  
With today's box and sealed instruction envelope, Derek walked across the street and into Pricks.  The jingling of the bell above the door announced his entrance and three heads swiveled to greet him. He paused as the door slammed shut behind him and took his own purchase of the men inside. A scarecrow-thin man, couldn't be much older than a teen actually, manned the counter; his ears and lips displaying a multitude of spacers and rings and close shorn brown hair reminding him of his boyfriend.

An older man with a greasy graying ponytail lay on a chair, shirtless. His chest and arms a tapestry of skulls and women amidst other inked art. The third man was a heavyset individual, one gloved hand holding the second man's arm as a tattoo needle etching another design buzzed in his other.  All three has momentarily stopped and looked at him standing at the doorway in his loose fitting sweats and zipped leather jacket.  
  
"What's up, brah". The teen broke the silence as the other two men lost interest. Derek put the box and envelope on the glass counter next to some open binders of sample work  
  
"I want whatever this says."    
  
The teen picked up the envelope and turned it over. "Um, it's sealed, dude."  
  
Ignoring the obvious, Derek looked around the parlor. He could hear the man rip open the envelope and the tape around the box. The front window, large enough to basically be the front wall of the store, was decorated along its borders by printed photos of past work. The morning light streaming from it and the glass door illuminated the entire front half of the store, where the two reclining chairs, one occupied by the biker, were positioned. Along the back was a beaded curtain and closed cupboards that Derek assumed held supplies and other sundry items.    
  
"Ok man, it looks like you want some piercings done." Derek turned back towards the teen, his eyes and overall 'Sourwolf Glare' (patent pending) interrupting and intimidating the kid enough that he lost his train of thought.  
  
"Um. So, your 'instructions' said that you're here for nipple piercings.  Frank is the only one here who can do that and he's doing a job right now. But it should be done in another half hour, if you wanna wait."  He trailed off as Derek continued to stare at him. He gave an audible breath of relief when Derek turned to the chairs alongside the opposing wall.  
  
As Derek settled himself on a chair, watching the other two men work on the tattoo, the teen hurriedly yelled out. "Oh. I'm also supposed to tell you to wear what you wore yesterday...

And to hand us your phone and take a picture of you every 15 minutes to send to a number..."  

The kid’s voice lilted up after every sentence quite confused by all these additional instructions. "It's going to be $159 for both piercings, by the way."

He trailed off as Derek approached the counter again. After handing over his phone to the befuddled teen, Derek stepped back to the waiting chairs. He sat back down to work his boots off and stashed them on a chair.  
  
"Sir, you need to keep your...shoes......on...." The teen had started to remind him of the parlor policy, clearly posted behind him at the counter, but stumbled as Derek unzipped his jacket and shrugged it off, wearing nothing underneath.  

By the time Derek had hooked his thumbs underneath his sweatpants and pushed them down his legs, the boy stood wide-eyed and staring. It took less than a minute for Derek to strip himself; there was no need for dramatics here.  
  
As he sat back down on his chair, Derek knew he looked obscene. Legs spread slightly, he crossed his arms over hard pecs and returned the stare the kid was giving him. Well ... not eye to eye as the teen's eyes were fixed below his waist.

“Aren’t you supposed to take a picture, kid?”

“Um…. what?”  The teen stammered and blinked himself up to Derek’s face.  The glare he found seemed to bring back some of his mental facilities.  “Oh. Yes. Yes.” He grabbed the phone off the counter and turned it to face him.  

“Um, sir.  It’s locked.”

Rather than getting up to put in his code himself, Derek decided to just tell the kid.  Plus, he figured if the boy was supposed to use the camera every 15 minutes, he’d need to unlock it himself should he be otherwise occupied.

“7-5-8-8”  

As he called out the last digit, Derek rearranged himself for the picture - spreading his legs wider, shoulder width apart, and spread his arms to rest at the back of the two chairs next to him.  A quick glance at the front window at his slight reflection and he knew that any passerby would have full view of him, His cock plumped slightly at the thought, bumping unhappily against its constraints.  

Derek watched as the kid placed the phone down after taking the photo before reaching for the sample binder three chairs over.  If he was going to wait for 30 minutes, he might as well peruse around.

He flipped over the first display page before the kid’s voice stammered out.  “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to still put ...um… your clothes back on?”

From the corner of his eye, he could see that statement had gotten the other two guys’ attention and they once again stopped to look over.  Frank, the gentleman giving the tattoo, was ever the professional and immediately went back to his job. The biker, on the other hand, stayed staring.  

Derek ignored both the beady stare of the biker and the store clerk and flipped the second page of the display binder. The hairs on his arms prickled, knowing that two sets of eyes were still watching.  

“If-if you could please put yo-..”

“Andy,”  Derek looked up from his perusal at the commanding tone.  The artist, Frank, interrupted his employee. “Let the man be and just enjoy the view.  I’m sure he knows what he’s about.

“I’m sorry about him.  If you could just wait, Mr…?” Frank had already turned back to his work, seemingly unmoved by the presence of the nearly-naked stud sitting on his waiting area.

“Hale.  Derek Hale.”  

“Mr. Hale-”

“Derek will be fine.”

“Yeah, sure, Derek.  Derek I won’t be done with Jim here for another hour.  But I don’t have anyone else scheduled for the day unless we have more walk-ins like you.”  

Shifting in his seat, Derek glared at the teen still staring at him from the counter.  Stubbornly the younger man refused to lower his gaze. Normally, such a blatant challenge to his alpha authority would have set Derek off, but perhaps due to Stiles’s constant egging, he was not as affected.  

Instead, he decided to mess with the kid, able to smell the waft of lust emanating from the boy from his seat, by winking and grinning.  The resulting blush was enough to push Derek to do more. He spread his legs ever wider drawing attention to the caged cock between; the metal rings doing little to actually hide the flesh within.  The youthful cinnamon and spice scent of arousal rose and Derek’s smirk turned into a full grin when Andy finally turned away, suddenly finding a more interesting activity to engage in.

For the next hour, the steady electric hum of the tattoo needle set against casual conversation between Frank and Jim was the backdrop to Derek’s wait.  There was little to do while he waited, he could only look out the window at a nearly empty street for so long.

He passed a majority of the time perusing through the various display binders and was impressed by the quality of work shown.  Frank was clearly a true artist with his tattoos and the examples of piercings qualmed Derek’s lingering fears.

The last binder he looked through was entirely piercings and ranged from everyday ear, nose, and lips to a surprising number of “alternative”sites.  Derek kept flipping back at the images of a penis decorated with nearly a dozen button studs and couldn’t help but imagine how that would feel as it fucked him.  

Andy studiously interrupted at every 15 minute interval with a beet red face to take his picture.  Bored, Derek decided to play it up and with each picture posed more and more risque and slutty. In one, he dropped to his knees in receiving-pose (knees spread wide, hands clasped behind his head, chest puffed out, and head tilted back with mouth open and tongue splayed out).  

He was especially happy with Andy’s sputtering response to his last photo: spreading his ass open kneeling on the floor.  Head turned towards the camera, the thick arousal scent from Andy triggering his own blood, Derek wantonly displayed himself forgetting the public nature of where he was.  

Realization was slow to come as he spent long seconds on his knees and chest.  A reprimanding throat clearing from Frank snapped him out of his own lust and he slowly got back up from the floor.  Sitting back down in the waiting area, he picked up the last display binder and went back to perusing as if the last minute had never happened.  

“Ok.  We’re done for this session Jim.  Remember to keep the skin clean and to use the anti-bacterial ointment daily.  If you see anything or the area starts to be painful, call me immediately.”

Derek put down the binder and watched as Frank finished prepping Jim to leave.  From the waiting area, he was finally able to see the tattoo Jim was getting done and was again impressed by Frank’s artistry.  It was clear that it was not yet complete, patches and colors were missing, but the black outline was itself surreal. Spanning his entire left side, a large phoenix was sketched in magnificent likeness.

“You’re not new at this, Jim.  Just be careful with riding around.  I don’t want you rubbing up against it with your arms.”  Stepping back, Frank gave one final appraising look at Jim’s side and nodded, satisfied with what he saw.  “Go settle up with Andy.

“Derek, if you could give me a minute.  If you want, you can sit yourself on the chair now.”

Satisfied with Frank’s efficiency and eager to get this done, Derek complied.  Leaving his clothes piled neatly in the waiting area, he went to sit in the mentioned chair.  Passing Jim by the counter, he felt the brush of rough fingers on his exposed ass.

He made a split second decision and decided to indulge the biker.  Pausing by the desk counter, he turned to speak to Jim. In a stage whisper he leaned towards him, “Stop by the Beacon Hill Sheriff’s if you want more than a feel.  Tell them you’re looking for Derek Hale.”

Walking away he put a little extra strut in his stride, knowing both sets of eyes were focused on his naked back.  

Derek settled himself on the padded table, the polyester blend scratchy against his nude ass.  He watched as Frank rummaged through the counter space and came back armed with a couple small bottles and several cotton pads.  The aseptic scent of ethyl alcohol filled his nostrils as Frank opened one of the bottles and dabbed an amount to a pad. Derek’s eyes followed along as Frank ever carefully cleaned the area he was working on and sealed it with bandaged gauze.  

“Andy says you’re here to get both nipples pierced.”  

“If that’s what the instructions say.”  

“It does.  Looks like it also has the studs we are using.”  On Frank’s open palm, held out for Derek to see, were two barbelled studs.  Derek huffed at them. The deputies really knew how to hit his sore spots. The ends of the barbells, the parts seen after insertion, were in the shape of bone ends for their hungry bitch.  

Rather than let Frank in on the joke, Derek simply nodded his approval.  

Sensing that this customer wasn’t one for small talk, Frank got started with his job and dropped the pair of barbells into a solution to sterilize.  He putzed around his counter, back turned to his naked customer.

The stinging scent of rubbing alcohol cut Derek’s nose as he watched Frank prepare his instruments.  At least the parlor followed proper protocol, not that he could catch anything. But at least he knew this was a reputable place for both quality art and quality work.  

“This shouldn’t take long.”  Frank reassured, not that it was needed.  “No more than a few seconds.”

Derek licked dry lips.  He had been calm while waiting but suddenly he could feel the adrenaline coursing through him anticipating the bite of the needle and was thankful his control over the shift was ironclad.  Frank turned around with a swathe of gauze soaked in disinfectant alcohol. Derek’s eyes followed his hand as it dabbed and swiped across his pebbled nipples.

Blood rushed to his cock, responding to the professional touch as Frank leaned closer.  The faint puff of breath over his nipple going straight to his penis. Tearing his gaze away from the man modifying his body, he focused in on the mirror in front of him.  While Frank was obscuring most of everything, it still provided a clear view of the store counter where a certain young man was standing enraptured by the going-ons on the bench.  

Catching Andy’s stare, Derek winked and licked his lips.  A hand made its way down to grope at his caged cock; an action that prompted a fresh cluck of disapproval from Frank.

“Hold still or this needle is going to pierce something other than your nipple.”

With one last leer, Derek broke the mirror-stare and refocused on the the man next to him.  He was happy to note that one piercing had been completed, his new bone-stud already peeking from a swollen nipple tip.  He wasn’t quite sure if he was supposed to have felt anything, his pain threshold absurdly high. It took barely another moment and the second stud was in place, Frank sitting up straight and wiping his hands.

“Ok. you’re all set.”  Frank swiveled his stool and grabbed some things from his counter.  “You have to keep the area clean for a while. Use regular soap and water, but don’t soap the area directly.  Just run it through soapy water. You can also use a solution we sell by the counter.”

Derek tried to pay attention to the instructions Frank was giving.  Unfortunately, he knew that he had no risk of infections, so while Frank was telling him how to prevent that, he was busy admiring the new modifications and the novel feel it gave him.  

“Pay up with Andy before you leave.”

“About that.”  Frank turned back around at Derek’s questioning tone.  “I was hoping that we could work out a barter trade of sorts.”

“This is a professional establishment.  And we ask that our customers pay for our professional services.”

“Um...Frank,”  Andy’s voice cut through and interrupted.  “The note said that Beacon Hill Sheriff Department will settle the bill at a later date.” The teen’s eyes were filled with a hard, desperate lust, “But if additional payment is needed, Derek can see to the difference...”

Knowing just what the note meant, Derek dropped to his knees and took position.  

“My ass pussy is off-limits, but my mouth pussy is all yours, Sirs.”  Derek held to the teen’s stare, talking right to him. His eyes stayed steady as after a moment he heard the jangle of Frank’s jeans walk to the front and the crash of the blinds as it was let down.   The rasp of the lock as it turned and the from the corner of his eye, Derek saw Frank flip the sign from open to closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Always_Bottom_Derek for editing and overall making the story 4000% better.


End file.
